


We Were All Young and Foolish Once

by Mis_Shapes



Series: Young Wolves [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Festival, M/M, POV Robb, POV Theon, Prequel, pre thramsay, throbb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-18 20:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Robb, Theon, and Jon make the arduous journey back to their tent in the early morning after playing at a festival. Robb is feeling the strain of his new life and his feelings for Theon, while Alys makes a guest appearance which stirs up some tension.References to Young Wolves but can stand alone (especially as its considerably less moody) - dips back into Theon's memories of him and Robb getting together but from Robb's POV and Alys getting her photo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope they aren't too OOC! I'm going to follow up with a second chapter...
> 
> For context - there's mounting pressure for northern devolution and Robb has become well known in the movement
> 
> I use the odd bits and pieces of Yorkshire dialect as the setting is northern England. I try not to go overboard and just do what feels natural (including not in the dialogue) but if there’s an odd word that’s not understandable just let me know. I don’t -think- there is one in this.
> 
> On their ages - I'm writing them as though Theon is a few years older and Robb is about 20 here

Robb is stuck in the mud for the third time since they started the gruelling trudge back to the tent. He flails backwards, swinging his arms around in attempt to gain some balance and composure. He’s laughing, of course he’s laughing, that’s the person he’s supposed to be. The extrovert full of enthusiasm. He’s enjoying the pace at which they’re going, enjoying the last moments of what he’d vaguely describe as a ‘day’ ignoring the fact that the sun is about to bridge the horizon, while still running on the adrenalin rush. 

Jon’s eyes roll in frustration as he crosses his arms sternly, tugging around the dark grey waterproof he’s wearing with them and around himself. He's eager to get into his warm sleeping bag at the tent. He can’t blame him really, it’s fucking freezing right now. The time of day the temperature descends and the brightness of dawn begins to hit and you wake up wondering why you ever agreed to go camping in the first place. Unlike the other usual camping experiences they've been on, it lacks birdsong, only the quiet early morning hub bub of the festival site around them. 

“For crying out loud,” snarls Jon with one of his trademark heavy sighs, swinging his arms in the direction ahead of them as though they might be hurried along, “I really could do with some sleep. Can you please get a move on?” He thinks Robb’s doing this on purpose. Perhaps he is. He's been keen to spend time with Theon and Jon alone. Time to be himself, or as much as he ever can be. He’s reluctant to tell them it’s all become a little too much too soon, the pressure is getting to him. 

The mud makes a loud squelch as Robb pulls a foot free, bent over to hold onto each side of the oversized green welly. Taking a step forwards, suddenly his other foot comes loose from its own welly, “Oi! Can I get a hand here?” His foot hovers over the ground as he tries to get it back in, touching the soft claylike mud briefly and covering his sock in sludge. 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” moans Jon, like the mardy bastard he can be, “look, I’m going to walk on ahead and try to find the tent. There’s like a million and one wolf flags here and if we try them all at this rate we’re never getting back.” 

“I thought you said you were sure this was the way back?” Theon taunts, lips tugging up into a lopsided grin, “are you telling me you aren’t always right? Is this an admission of imperfection, Snow?” Theon is effortless cool and charm. He oozes confidence and charisma. 

Jon’s lips open to speak for a millisecond and then they are pressed quickly back together in a tight line, thinking better than to get involved in this right now. Theon is clearly disappointed, it’s one of his greatest pleasures in life to wind him up to boiling point. Robb thinks Jon must be maturing. _‘Or becoming a pretentious twat,’_ echo’s Theon’s voice, _‘one or the other, I know which I'd choose’_. However, if he’s being perfectly honest it sounds like solid plan. Jon is always the one with the plan, an over thinker, he needs to lighten up but for now he’s welcome to take the lead. 

Jon eyes Robb briefly with his dark eyes, “you going to be alright, mate? I’ll give you a ring when I figure out where we are. I just can't be dealing with it.” He looks weary, the joy Robb and Theon are experiencing is missing, his hair plastered to his forehead from the sweat and rain, and clothes splattered in mud. How can there be such a contrast in how he looks compared to Theon? Too cool to wear a waterproof jacket Theon. He’s slicked back his damp hair and it looks as though it could be purposeful, he pulls it off without a shadow of a doubt. 

Someone has given Robb a streak of mud on either cheek as though it were war paint, he can’t even think who now; it had all been such a blur since they’d gotten off the stage. Dry now, its begun to flake off and he finds himself suddenly self-conscious as he sobers up. They all think he's someone he's not and he finds himself forever worrying he will be discovered as being fraud. He doesn't feel like the passionate leader they want him to be. “I’ll be reyt! I’ll be fine in Greyjoy’s very capable hands, I’m sure.” He winks just in case they hadn’t understood he was insinuating something. These flirtations have been going on for so long now they have become a natural part of their relationship which is making life incredibly difficult now he’s actively trying to gauge Theon’s interest. Originally, he’s sure they had been a tactic, a ploy, of Theon’s to get at Jon. 

Snows eyes narrow slightly, a small glare as he glances between them as though contemplating whether it’s acceptable to leave them to each other’s whims. 

“What’s up? Jealous? Want a kiss goodbye? What if you never see each other again?” Theon mock pouts, he likes to do impressions of Jon’s characteristic expressions. 

Robb snorts, raking fingers through his hair to ruffle it up. Try as he might he can't help but find some amusement in their jibes at each other, its the only thing that makes being caught in the middle bearable. He’s managed to slip his foot back into the boot himself, but he’s going to need help getting out. 

An exasperated Jon stalks off into the distance, stepping over bright neon tent guy ropes to keep off the muddy trackway. They’re left alone for a matter of seconds before a group of around the same age come in the opposite direction. He mentally prepares himself for yet more social interaction, spotting a few of them wearing ‘The North Remembers’ badges. 

“Hey, are you out of the Young Wolves?” 

“Yes, from Young Wolves…” Robb responds, he’s adamant that there is no ‘the’ in the bands title. 

“Oh wow! Can we get a photo, please?” 

“Help us get out of here first, yeah?” Theon asks, taking hold of one of Robb’s arms. 

Together they manage to pull him out of the mud, but Theon falls back into one of the girls with them. She doesn’t seem too annoyed, in fact she looks him appreciatively up and down. It’s the beginning of the end. 

She looks familiar and he searches his mind for people and their names, “hey, are you the small Karstark? Torrhen’s little sister?” Maybe, hopefully, Theon will see her as off limits but this is rare for him, it’s possible it might increase the excitement of the idea. 

She smiles brightly, proud perhaps, “That’s right. Alys.” 

“Alys,” Robb repeats, testing out the name in the most charming manner he can muster, which he’s told is pretty charming, “that’s right.” Her friends watch in awe of her familiarity with the frontman. 

“Of course, it’s fucking right. She just told you so, you twat.” Theon chuckles amicably. Now Robb’s embarrassed, he can feel his cheeks flush. 

He and Robb get into position for the photos and both put their arms round the gaggle, pulling well practiced smiles. Most of the group are in see through plastic poncho with various coloured wellies on and smothered in glitter. 

After the first round of photos the majority of them are beginning to drift away, staring at the photos on their phones and comparing to decide on the best one, which one they are going to upload on some social media platform. They aren’t really interested in them or talking to them, just having been seen with them; the idea of them. Robb can't help but feel relieved. Alys hangs back, offering out a bag of wine from a box. It is decisively declined by Robb, who is hit with a wave of nausea. 

“I was wondering… can I get one of the masks?” She laughs light-heartedly and gets in the middle of them, holding out the phone in front of them and taking selfies of them in wolf masks until she gets a suitable one, her free arm wraps snuggly around Theon’s waist, “ta!” 

“Ah, you know, practically family aren’t you? Anything for Torrhen’s little sis,” he regrets it instantly and his stomach drops, cringing internally. This is an exaggeration and a half but she responds with a smirk, eyes flickering over to Theon who raises an eyebrow at Robb. 

They’re both posturing. Theon has his hands in his pockets, he does this when he’s trying to look nonchalant, while she mirrors him with one hand, the other just under her hair as though permanently pushing it back from her face. 

Alys’s friends are beginning to get fractious and start to walk away, “Alys! Come on. Let’s go. I really need the loo.” 

“Sorry guys, best get off, I’ll see you around, I’m sure,” the way she dashes off, arms and her hair swinging as she runs on tip toes, makes with wonder how on earth it took them this long to get here. As they watch her leave she glances back over her shoulder, garnering a smug smile from Theon as he lights a cigarette, a hand shielding the flame from the light breeze. 

“Losing you nerve?” Robb asks, a little more irritably than intended. 

“Hmmm?” Theon barely acknowledges the question, he’s playing with the way the smoke leaves his mouth. 

Robb hates Theon smoking and can’t help but frown. He’s sick and tired of being pulled outside and into smoking areas, hates the smell. That's not entirely true, sometimes its an opportunity to escape for a few minutes. Still, it doesn’t half accentuate his fingers as he brings it to his mouth. Everything about him is lean and graceful. Robb finds himself mesmerised watching the way the muscles of his forearms ripple when he plays bass. It’s always the little things, the way he moves, the line of his jaw, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, the pull of the tendon of his slender neck as he turns. The list is endless. 

It’s been tormenting him for years now and try as he might he’s failing at getting that sort of attention from Theon. Hell, he’s even started growing stubble in the vein hope that he might think of him as a little older. Perhaps its not the age gap. 

“She was making the eyes at you.” 

Theon’s move tugs into a wide arrogant grin and his eyes follow the path Alys had taken. “Yeah,” he says simply, flicking away the cigarette butt as he turns to Robb, “what of it?” The damp t-shirt under his jacket blows gently against his torso, toned from years of watersports, and he’s suddenly all too aware that he’s ogling. The fresh still waters of the local reservoirs aren’t quite enough for Theon, he'd rather be out on the waves of the sea, but he makes do. 

Robb says nothing, setting his jaw and scowling, Theon clearly knows what he means but revels in making him uncomfortable. He’s a strange mix of secretive and open about his sex life in a way that keeps people guessing, presuming even. When he does talk about it its casual, never forced, never awkward. Not like words he and Jon might share. He can be lewd but rarely does he divulge specific events. 

Theon pulls out his phone, checking a message he assumes is from Jon on account that he indicates his head the way Jon had gone, motioning to follow him, “come on,” there’s a pause and he looks back to make sure Robb is following, his glance almost one of endearment, concern, and it fills Robb with hope. 

Robb envies and admires Theon in equal measure. His independence. The way he says no to people or switches off when he’s bored or disinterested. Robb feels the pressure to mediate and be the diplomat at every turn, he humours people when Theon might well just tell them they’re talking bollocks. 

“Listen up, Stark, sometimes flirting is just flirting,” his expression turns to one of contemplation and he meets Robb’s eyes, “can you not enjoy it without it leading to more?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I'm not particularly happy with this but it's starting to stress me out a little!
> 
> I've been back and forwards between deciding on a Robb or Theon POV for this and its ended up being Theon but I think I might regret it... I just thought it might have been worthwhile getting a Theon perspective on Robb. I'm finding it hard to get the early character of Theon and tenderness for Robb at the same time.
> 
> As ever, its not been beta'd, if anyone fancies helping me out let me know...

Robb’s curls catch the light of the sunrise behind him, just peaking up over the endless horizon of tents and flags, they shine a brilliant auburn as they become tousled in the wind. His face is shadowed but Theon knows the look he’s getting. It might be described as a glower to those who don’t know any better, but its more than that. Its a hard look that’s full of passion and as much fire as his hair. He makes the same face when he’s trying to concentrate and it can be as stunning as his smile. 

He smirks, knowing how Robb will answer, “you don’t even know when you’re doing it do you?” 

“Of course, I do.” 

“Alright,” say Theon simply and turns to walk away, deciding to take the path Jon had taken through the tents. 

“What do you mean ‘alright’? What is that supposed to mean?” Robb attempts to catch up with him but Theon is lithe and navigates the ropes and other camping paraphernalia with ease, he reaches out to catch the back of his jacket and catches himself before he trips, “would you take that fucking smug look off your face and just speak to me?” 

It isn’t usual for Robb to lash out at him like this and the pang of guilt rushes through him. He shouldn’t have let things get this far. Truth be told, though he enjoys the flirting without it going somewhere, he thinks regularly about the possible destinations. The flirting had been alike to quitting while he’s ahead, gambling further has the potential to be either brilliant or disastrous. Either would be life changing. Either would be the loss of this relationship with Robb. Beautiful Robb with the heart of gold who welcomed him so quickly and easily. How could he risk losing Robb? But it appears Robb may be about to lay his cards on the table. 

“I’m not doing anything!” 

“No, exactly,” Robb snipes. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing, its ‘alright’.” 

“Ok.” 

“Ok? How is it OK?!” 

“What do you want me to say? Go on, tell me, and we might actually get somewhere.” 

“Fine, be like that.” 

“Be like what?” He’s going to get a headache at this rate. 

“Stop being so fucking difficult, would you?” 

“What do you want from me? You’re acting like a petulant child!” Wrong thing to say right now. So wrong. When he turns to look back Robb is rooted to the spot, the immediate anger is gone, his pained face shows the hurt mixed with the exhaustion of wearing his masks. He hasn’t let himself look this vulnerable, even in front of Theon, in quite some time, “I- I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get back. We can talk about this when were in a better state, or at least warm.” 

Robb shakes his head, he looks as though he might be tempted to walk away. 

“Robb-“ 

“Don’t. Just don’t,” he pleads, dismayed, “are you always going to think of me like that?” 

“I-,“ Theon’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck uneasily. 

“Actually, don’t answer that.” 

Robb flinches as Theon reaches out and squeezes the forearm of one of his crossed arms, reassuringly. He turns his head away from him to stare down at the mud stubbornly, his lips pressed together. 

“Look at me,” when he refuses Theon cups his cheek softly and attempts to move it himself but still Robb resists, even closing his eyes. Full of despair at their mutual pining he allows himself to think about what it might be like to kiss those plump pouting lips and his thumb brushes softly over them. Potentially involuntarily, Robb’s lips part just a little, enough for Theon to feel the hot breath of his mouth, and he lets the weight of his head fall into the palm of his hand. 

He knows why Robb hesitates, they both need the other to initiate. They both have their own reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, and both need the others reassurance. But when Robb’s piercing blue eyes eventually relent and meet his own the thoughts of why they shouldn’t come to a standstill and the only thing that matters is to remove Robb’s aggrieved expression. As Theon takes another step forward Robb receptively drops his arms. 

Theon intends for the soft tender kiss to remain chaste, dipping a toe in the water as it were, not wishing to spook Robb, but Robb appears intent on plunging straight in. He’s sent reeling at Robb’s touch as his hands work themselves inside the jacket and grip him at the waist over the clinging top. His thumbs press in with a perfectly tantalising pressure. When their lips re-join with more passion that sends sparks through him, he’s taken aback by Robb’s skill in such matters. It must read on his face as Robb smiles into the kiss and breaks to nudge Theon’s softly with his own. 

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He knows Robb isn’t inexperienced per se but this side of him is enough to convince him that he’s not taking advantage. It becomes clear the slow drift of Robb’s thumbs down over his hips is intentional when they dip under the waist band of his trousers and brush playfully over the lip of the elastic on his underwear. 

Theon arches a brow and Robb bites the corner of lip as though suddenly embarrassed at how forward he’s being, “don’t be looking at me like that,” Theon manages to breath. 

“Do you not like it?” Robbs voice manages to be both anxious and mischievous. 

“Shit, Robb,” not Stark, that’s something that needs to be set aside for now, “it’s everything I can do try and not think about commandeering one of these tents.” 

“We have our own tent… “ The anxiety is gone. Robb wets his lower lip and a more deliberate scrape of his teeth over the trail follows shortly after, his eyes full of lust. 

“W- we need to slow down,” his voice is unconvincing, a through away statement. 

“Slow down? We’ve been at this for years. I’m tired. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of just fantasising about you. Please, you tell me I put too much pressure on myself… I want this weight lifting. I can’t cope anymore, Theon. It’s all too much. I feel like I’m drowning. I-,“ his eyebrows are draw back up in the middle in a typical Robb fashion. 

His heart quickens at the mere mention that Robb’s been fantasising about him. He longs to question him further on this, wants everything single last detail but instead he pulls Robb back into his embrace, “come on, you need some sleep.” He means it and yet he’s under no illusion that either of them are going to leave it at that. It’s most likely the wisest thing to do however, and perhaps it’s the pretence they need to move forwards. 

Their hands never leave each other, finding any excuse to touch, as though if they were to break contact for just a moment the spell might break. It’s now that Robb being particularly bumbly in this early hour comes into its own for Theon is all too willing to help him along. 

When they finally reach the tents, Jon has fallen asleep in one of the camp chairs in the middle space along with a few other crashed friends, a couple sit preoccupied with a little stove while someone’s legs peek out of the entrance to the tent opposite. 

“Jon?” Robb shakes Jon’s shoulder softly, “Jon, wake up. We’re back, you should get inside and into your sleeping bag. Jon?” He glances over apologetically to Theon, “you go ahead, I’m going to sort him out.” 

It’s just like Jon to ruin the mood and piss him off even in his sleep. It’s irrational but it’s true. He drives him round the bend. 

“Really?” Theon asks, exasperated. 

“Yes, really.” 

“Hmpf,” murmurs Jon, half asleep. 

“Look, he’s awake now, he can sort his self out.” 

“Knock it off. He’s been waiting for us.” 

“Alright, if you must,” Theon sighs in frustration and unzips the tent, climbing in. He knows he shouldn’t be cross about Robb wanting to help his brother but it feels like all the other times he’s had to choose between them. 

It’s already stifling inside from the rising sun. He doesn’t need to wait long for Robb to join him but it’s enough to have set them back. Laid on his back he looks up at the inner lining of the tent, watching a daddy long-legs fluttering inelegantly against the fabric. 

Robb takes his waterproof off before turning his attention to Theon, leaning over and tugging at his top with a wide grin, “you should get this off.” 

“I should, should I?” Theons smirk is self-assured. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of Robb hovering over him, “I’m not convinced.” 

He watches as Robb’s fingers gently and teasingly nudge up the material. He runs finger tips agonisingly slowly across the bare skin and tears half-lidded eyes from Theon’s own to gaze down as though it were the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. When Robb’s lips hit the bottom of his abdomen, tugging the waistband lightly with a finger to expose more flesh. He hears himself groan and Robb’s low chuckle shortly after, running the heel of the other hand over his crotch, all proud of himself. 

“Fuck…” he pants, his hand moving to hover near Robb’s head, torn between providing a gentle encouragement and the desire pull him off and to force him to make similar noises of his own. No turning back from here. 

He pulls himself up ono his elbows, he gets a hand under Robb’s chin who opens his mouth to let his warm and wet tongue touch the sensitive skin defiantly. The movement proves tricky on the half-deflated airbed but he eventually manages to pull Robb up and turn him onto his back on the cool groundsheet, pushing the mattress against the wall of the tent in frustration. 

Straddling Robb, he allows him to help him remove the jacket before pulling the top up over his head. Robb’s hands automatically reach for the stretched-out muscles of his torso, enchanted. It is with instant regret he realises he should’ve gotten some clothes off him before trapping him like this. He can feel Robb hard beneath him despite the layers and a meagre roll of the hips receives a welcoming whimper and a bit lip. Entertained, Theon’s fingers press against Robb’s lips as he leans in to silence him a kiss but it’s all too tempting elicit a moan with a suck of the lower lip instead. His eyes flicker towards the tent flap, which is billowing a little in the breeze, as though closing it would do anything to aid soundproofing. He can hear Jon’s soft snores from here. 

The now swollen lip and Robb’s clear wanton disregard for being caught as he kisses along his collarbone, or at least the thought of it, brings all manner of lewd behaviour to mind. His hands move to undo the button of Robb’s jeans but a rush of concern leads him to look to him for permission before he ventures further. 

“Are you-.. are you sure?” 

“Please… Theon, please,” Robb’s breathy voice is needy rather than demanding. 

He’s going to have to remember the delightful way Robb begs. It’s a rush to think he might just be able to ease Robb’s strife if only for a little while.


End file.
